Four Corners
by Ghostwriter Redux
Summary: When Billie Turner meets her demise quite unexpectedly one afternoon, she's given a second chance courtesy of Mandos, but at what cost? Her arrival in Middle Earth soon sets into motion a chain of events she doesn't understand and is helpless to stop, especially when she becomes increasingly involved with a rather bitter and cynical Son of Elrond…Pairing: eventual Elrohir/OC. AU.
1. Prologue

A/N: "Ghostwriter, what are you doing writing another LOTR fanfic when you already have one in the works you haven't updated in over a month? Not to mention your AVP story you haven't updated in nearly two?" Well, yeah. About that. You see, the reason that is…hey look it's Legolas! *points wildly in random direction and flees the opposite way*. Real Life gets in the way, ya' know? And my muse is a fickle little bitch when she wants to be, demanding I write about Elrohir *sigh* and we all know to not anger the muse…

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Disclaimer: I do not, I repeat, do not own Lord of the Rings. All credit for Middle Earth and its inhabitants go to the wonderful Professor (and Jackson can have a bit of credit too I guess). I do not own the cover photo either. The only thing I own is my OC and make no profit from writing this.

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Prologue

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"How's Mama doing?"

"As well as can be expected for an old girl with a broken leg."

"Pity."

"Yeah," Billie rubbed the aforementioned greyhound's head affectionately that was splayed across her lap.

"Has Dr. Moore decided the next course of action?"

"Euthanasia." Jessie remained silent at her friend's words, not missing the way Billie refused to meet her eyes through her disheveled bangs.

"Why?"

"Her bones aren't mending properly and you know Ms. Grady doesn't have the money to send her away upstate for surgery. Besides, because of her age there is little guarantee she would survive it."

"Right," Jessie knelt beside her friend as she continued to scratch behind Mama's ears, managing a smile when the pooch's tail thumped weakly against the blankets beneath her.

"I called Ms. Grady, she'll be here in about half an hour," Billie said, patting Mama one last time on her hindquarters before standing. She turned, swiping away her tears with the sleeve of her light green scrubs and grabbing a leash from the wall; "I'm taking Boingo and Molly out real quick, they've been stir crazy all day and driving Sam up the wall. Will you-?"

"I'll let you know when she gets here," Jessie assured her friend, assuming her previous position and petting the ill greyhound.

"Thanks Jess."

"Yep."

Billie turned her attention towards the kennel at the back of the small veterinary clinic, able to hear the aforementioned dogs yelping already. She didn't even have to say anything, merely hold the leash up before their cages as they vocalized their happiness in cheerful yips courtesy of Boingo, an eighty pound Australian Shepherd and a wavering howl from Molly, the chunky but adorable basset hound.

"Who wants their walkies?" Billie asked, a smile spreading over her lips as she opened Molly's cage.

"Walkies?" The veterinary technician blushed, fussing with the hound's collar and waiting until the heat in her cheeks abated somewhat before looking at the handsome man behind her leaning against the doorway with a teasing grin on his lips.

"Hi Dr. Moore."

"Good afternoon Billie, I trust you've been taking good care of our charges?"

"Yeah, Ms. Grady-."

"Elizabeth," he corrected her gently. The small animal hospital was well-known for its hospitality and being on a first-name basis with their clientele made the experience more personal and therefore they were more likely to return.

"Elizabeth will be here shortly, she wants to be with Mama when she's -," Billie trailed off, hating the way her voice trembled as she lowered her gaze back to Molly's soulful brown eyes.

"Understandable," he agreed, not saying anymore. Billie cleared her throat before standing and patting her thigh, bidding the old girl to follow her outside. She grabbed a tennis ball out of the plastic bin beside the door as an afterthought.

Leaning against the back of the clinic she watched Molly run the length of the enclosure several times with that adorably clumsy lope that made Billie love basset hounds. She had one pet growing up and that was a beta fish affectionately named 'Jaws' when she was seven. Her mom was allergic to nearly everything under the sun it seemed and as a result they weren't able to have any cats or dogs. She had never dealt with the loss of a pet (though she did shed a few tears when Jaws was sent to a watery grave down the loo when she was ten) and it tore her apart watching others having to experience what must be a devastating loss. She had thought several times about changing her major but she loved animals far too much to do so (not to mention tech school ate up most of her college fund. With her lousy luck and lack of finances she'd become a certified veterinarian by the time she was forty).

The blond began bouncing the tennis ball at her side in an attempt to distract herself from such a dismal subject only to accidentally bonk Molly on the head with it; "Oh! Sorry girl!" She laughed, kneeling to press a kiss to her head and rubbing her behind the ears by way of apology.

Molly, however, took off after the errant tennis ball, returning a few seconds later with the fuzzy yellow ball clasped in her maw. She dropped it into Billie's lap, panting lightly. Molly was recovering from her near-fatal brush with heartworm from a few months earlier and had been given a clean bill of health by Dr. Moore earlier that day thankfully. They were simply waiting for her owners to return from vacation to pick her up.

"Take it easy girl," Billie laughed, tossing the ball forward as Molly scrambled after it. It was only then that the technician noticed the gate to the small compound hadn't been properly latched by the last worker who had been stuck with the task of cleaning it out. Molly grabbed the ball and ran with it, slipping through the gate as Billie sprang to her feet.

"Aw, shit!" She groaned, taking off after the sly hound that was halfway across the yard by that point. She hadn't even known Molly could move that fast though her long legs easily ate up the distance between them as she fell to her knees, grasping the pooch by her collar before she ran off the property and into the woods; "You are such a royal pain in my royal ass," Billie grumbled, directing her back to the hospital.

At least that had been the plan before something hot hit her in the chest, the force behind it sending her sprawling gracelessly on her ass; "The hell-?" She coughed, accidentally stepping on Molly as she stood, glancing down and seeing red blossoming quickly over the front of her scrub top. Then the pain came.

It was white hot and agonizing, her flesh was torn apart and the _burn_…oh god, the burning sensation was the worst. Her vision was swimming, she could taste copper thick on her tongue as blood spilled past her lips and she collapsed to the ground.

"Billie!"

"Call 911!" She was briefly aware of someone hovering over her, hands pressing against the wound on her chest in an attempt to staunch the bleeding.

_Stop. _

_Please stop._

_Ithurtsithurtsithurts. _

"I saw something crouching, I thought she was-oh fuck!"

"Billie, sweetheart, I need you to open your eyes." With an extraordinary amount of effort she managed to do so groggily, staring up into the worried face of her employer; "You were shot. You're going into shock-."

_Shot_?

"-bulance will be here soon, you need to hang on okay? Focus on me."

_He has pretty eyes._

"Billie?"

_Dark green with flecks of gold._

"Shit, she's not breathing."

"I'm starting CPR."

_Wish I had the balls to ask him out for coffee._

"Billie!"

The last thing Billie Turner heard as she lay bleeding out on the ground was the faint sound of bells ringing.

_Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings._

Irony at its finest…

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End Prologue

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I'm not sure why it seems like a good idea to throw my characters into ME via death by gunshot wound but I must say it's better than a car accident in my opinion. I guess I just like shooting people xD. This will be nothing like 'Curveballs' however, it will be rather dark for some time and 'Curveballs' will be rather lighthearted (I hope xD). As usual, sorry for any mistakes. I speed-read before I post and Word doesn't catch things occasionally. Cheers.


	2. Chapter One

A/N: Here we go. First chapter of 'Four Corners'. Thanks to those who reviewed (after the Monday I had, it made my day to see the reader response already):

BrownEyedGirl87: I love Elrohir too and there's so little fanfiction about him on here I just couldn't resist.

faye50free: As ye' ask, so shall ye' receive or something to that effect anyways.

BlueRoseofWinter: I know, I felt like an evil person after writing that prologue but the humor in this chapter should make up for all the angst.

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Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR, Professor Tolkien does (and Peter Jackson can have some credit too) nor do I own the cover photo. I only own my OC and make no profit from writing this.

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Chapter One: Deal with Death

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She was surrounded by darkness.

Billie felt her body rise, weightless and airy, sailing upwards towards a destination she couldn't see.

Not darkness there though. Light; blinding, solid, burning. But she couldn't see anything else. She squinted, trying to focus, to pick out anything nearby she may recognize. Something to give her bearing, to tell her where she was and why the hell she felt she was walking on air.

It was unsettling, especially when she got the creepy feeling she wasn't alone there, wherever 'there' happened to be.

She was confused and scared out of her damn mind but she kept moving, gliding along as though on one of those motorized walkways at the airport. Unable to stop, unable to get off, and she still couldn't see a god damn diddly thing.

Confusion and fright began to give way to anger and annoyance at that point before the light started to dim and she could finally make out shapes in the distance.

"Hey!" She called out, trying to run forward though her legs refused to obey her brain. They seemed to be assembling before an imposing figure in white. Behind the figure was what appeared to be a gold gate. Where in the world…?

A sense of peace hung in the air but it did very little to ease Billie's distress. She watched as the robed figure spoke to the people ahead of her one at a time. He seemed to ask them something, refer to a computer (she noticed with some amusement that it was a Mac) on an ivory and golden pedestal to his left, punched the keyboard a few times, and then ushered the person through the gate.

The closer Billie got to the figure the more anxious she felt. Her feet moved forward on their own accord and soon she stood before him. As their eyes met, she froze, jaw dropped in shock. The face beneath the hood belonged to her long-deceased grandfather; "Grandpa?!"

She blinked once, twice, and the features blurred before solidifying. She breathed a sigh of relief she hadn't realized she was holding as she realized it wasn't _quite_ her granddaddy; "What's going on? Who are you?"

His smile was warm and inviting; "This is our way to ease the path for our new arrivals."

"New arrivals?" A shiver ran through her body; "Where am I?"

"Don't you know?"

She swallowed tightly; "No."

His shaggy eyebrows arched, eyeing her from head to toe; "What's your name?"

"Name?" She echoed his question. The simple detail eluded her for several long moments before she managed to blurt out; "Billie Turner."

The man checked the computer, henpecking the keyboard a few times in a way eerily reminiscent of her grandpa whenever he tried using any sort of technology before clicking his tongue and frowning at her; "No, no, that's incorrect. You're not listed today."

"Not listed for what?"

"For entry."

"Entry into what?" His brow furrowed as he looked between her and his computer.

"Something is very, very wrong. I must do a search." He instructed her to place her palm on a lit screen atop the pedestal that reminded her of her Samsung Galaxy tablet at home. The computer then began beeping, lines of data running so fast across the screen Billie couldn't keep up with it. It stopped suddenly, chirping twice; "Ah, see there. That's the problem. You aren't due for another eighty years."

"Eighty years?"

He spun towards her, robes billowing with the movement; "Why do you keep repeating everything I say?"

"Because I don't know where I am or what's happening to me."

"Happened."

"Happened?"

"See, there you go again."

Billie pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling a sharp irritated breath before addressing him once more; "Please. I really don't know where I am. Could you tell me?"

"Why, this is the entrance to Heaven of course. I'm called the Processor though some folks refer to me as Saint Peter. It's my duty to make sure no one is passed through these gates who isn't in my files." He tapped the computer screen and then gave her an annoyed look; "You're not due for another eighty years. What are you doing here now?"

Her throat tightened painfully in that way that told her she was less than a moment away from bursting into tears; "H-heaven? I'm…I'm dead…?"

"Well, it won't do any good to deny you the truth. But how did you manage to die anyways?"

"Doesn't Heaven keep track of these things?" She spat, vitriol coating her words as she glared hard at him.

"That's not my area." He gazed at her as though willing her to remember; "Can't you recollect?"

Billie fidgeted under his piercing gaze, closing her eyes with a sigh as she strained to think back; "All I remember is something hitting me in the chest-."

"A bullet, perhaps? Hm, yes," he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully; "That actually makes a lot of sense now that I think about it."

"I'm glad at least one of us knows what's going on."

He ignored her rude reply before consulting his computer once more, turning the screen her way though she didn't understand a single word on it; "Each day I receive a list of new arrivals. You're not on the list but there is someone who was supposed to die at 4:37 this afternoon via gunshot wound from an irresponsible hunter. A mangy old hound. You are most certainly not her."

The wheels began turning in her head; "So, you're saying that I died in place of…Molly?"

"So it appears."

Her hands found her hips once more, lips pursed in annoyance; "Aren't you guys supposed to guard against mistakes like this?"

He scowled; "We 'guys', Ms. Turner, only have so much influence in these matters. Usually things go as planned but once every few centuries or so someone comes along and throws a wrench into the grand scheme of things. If you would have been several seconds slower in your pursuit you wouldn't be here right now. Tsk, this really messes up my record keeping."

"Your _record keeping_?!" Her voice rose to a fevered pitch; "Well let me tell you that this messes my life up pretty badly too. I just finished school and I was going to ask Kyle out for coffee tomorrow, really I was, and-." Billie was suddenly aware of the tears flooding down her cheeks as the Processor looked uncomfortable to be in her sniveling company.

"I did know that, actually. Quite by accident, as it were you see."

"You guys keep track of dead animals too?"

"Pets only, sadly to say. We have a special place for them up here where they wait to be reunited with their owners."

"All dogs go to heaven, huh?" An almost hysterical laugh bubbled passed her lips, the thought of all that had suddenly been ripped away from her hitting her hard, weakening her knees as tears welled in her eyes once more; "Oh God, I can't be dead."

"Please, Ms. Turner. Don't bring God into this. We try not to bother Him with such trivial mistakes."

"_Trivial_!?" Billie all-but shrieked, seeing him jump in alarm at the volume of her voice; "To you maybe, but to me…" She swallowed tightly, voice thick with emotion; "Oh God, please-."

"Shh! Don't keep saying that." The 'Processor' glanced around as though expecting to be smote down. He then leaned towards her, voice lowered to a whisper, expression almost conspiratorial; "There might be a way out of this…for both of us…if you're willing to go along that is." He arched his bushy eyebrows, giving her a sly smile.

A way out of this? Her heart leapt in her chest and Billie whispered; "I can live again?!"

"Well…yes." His eyes were focused on something in the distance behind her; "But…it's actually a bit more complicated than that."

"I'll do it." She found herself agreeing quickly; "Now. Please. Hurry up and send me back."

The Processor motioned her closer and lowered his voice once more; "It's not that simple. First you must understand and accept the conditions."

She snorted, arms folding loosely over her chest as she rolled her eyes. His expression darkened and Billie suddenly feared she had done something to make him change his mind. She straightened, silently berating herself; "But…does that mean if you send me back Molly will die?"

The Processor tilted his head in inquisition, almost bird-like in the motion; "You realize that she is a dog, yes?"

"Yeah but she's someone's pet and her family will miss her. I can't imagine what they'd say if they found out she survived a heartworm infection only to be shot by mistake thanks to some idiot hunting too close to the property."

His outrageously blue eyes stared into her light brown for a few seconds in wonder and disbelief before she was forced to drop her eyes from his powerful gaze; "There is a small…loophole…I can devise around that detail."

Billie's eyebrows arched in confusion at his words before hearing footsteps coming their way.

"If I may take over from here, Processor." She swallowed thickly, hazel eyes landing on the imposing sable-haired male behind the 'angel'.

"Námo! What are _you_ doing here?!" The Processor hissed, glancing around frantically as though to make sure no one was watching them; "You know Michael will strike you down if he sees you snooping around the Gates. Does that restraining order mean nothing to you?!"

'_Nambo_?' The blond thought to herself with a raised eyebrow as he waved his hand dismissively; '_Hm, he looks more fitting to play the part of Grim Reaper than Mr. Macintosh over here.'_

"Of course it does not mean anything to me. I am one of the Valar, after all. All things aside, I believe I may have a use for her. If you will sign her over into my care, that is."

"You know I cannot do that Námo. It will mess up-."

"Your records keeping," she was surprised to hear the other man's voice in sync with hers. She glanced up to see the smallest of smiles on his lips.

The Processor huffed softly in indignation, tapping away furiously at his keyboard; "You said that before when Romeo and Juliet were here before their time. Remember what happened when you took custody over them? You reincarnated them into Arda only for them to be killed once more just to bring them back a third time. You sir, are a sick, sick man."

"Hardly," Námo sneered; "I am most gracious when I choose to be. Besides, Lady Lúthien had the most irresistible puppy dog eyes."

Billie blinked once, twice, wondering why the words 'Arda' and 'Lúthien' sounded so damn familiar as the two otherworldly beings continued to argue. She hoped they would finish quarrelling over her soon, she had a life to get back to after all…

"It's settled then. Lady Wilhelmina-."

"Oh God, it's Billie, please." She all-but groaned in annoyance at the usage of her given name. Her father had named her for a female medic he met serving in the military that had saved his life years before and while she loved the nickname she hated her birth name.

"Stop bringing Him into the conversation!" The Processor hissed, cuffing her none-too-gently on the back of the head as she glared at him.

"You're violent for a saint."

"Lady Billie," Námo interrupted them calmly, eyeing them both sourly; "-will return to Arda with me and you, Processor," she heard the older-looking man gulp when Námo turned his attention his way; "-will not tell anyone of this. Delete it from your files."

The Processor sighed wearily, casting his gaze over her and it that moment he looked almost exactly like her grandfather did when he worried over her when she was a child; "Well…I suppose. But you will not tamper with her bodily form or perform any of that elvish juju on her this time as you did with Juliet." He said, pointing almost accusatorily at the male across from him.

Námo had the grace to look sheepish though Billie's interest had been immediately roused when she heard the word 'elvish'; "I agree to those terms."

"You're an elf?" She asked the male curiously who laid his hand upon her shoulder and the other upon her brow.

"Do not concern yourself with such things, _pen tithen_." His voice was deep and smooth, erasing whatever doubts she had left before a soft white glow enveloped her; "Not many are deserving of a second chance but I am not without mercy. Illúvatar willing you both have a happier ending this time."

Billie wasn't able to ask him what he meant by that as the light surrounding her grew brighter, almost blinding before fading to black for the second time that day as the words; "_Teilia lin kirma mae_," echoed in her head.

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End Chapter One

So, there are a billion different Sindarin dictionaries online and I am no linguistics major so sorry if the elvish gets a bit rough but I will try to keep from using too much of it. I loved writing this chapter, I laughed most of the way through and loved writing the banter between the 'Processor' and Billie. I hope you guys did as well.

Pen tithen: little one

Teilia lin kirma mae: Play your part well [or at least a very rough rendition of it]

*If anyone knows of an accurate/reliable LOTR Sindarin translator/dictionary hit me up! I sure could use one.


	3. Chapter Two

A/N: I found an old LOTR story I wrote on one of my flash drives when I was going through them deleting everything for more space. Unsurprisingly it was a Legomance with a total Mary-Sue and I laughed the whole way through reading it. Sad thing is I wrote it back in 2010. I can't believe how much I progressed as a writer since then, thank the lawd lol.

*The Processor appears and smacks me over the head* Stop saying that!

Me: Dude, what the hell!? Go back to chapter one, right now, or I will never give you a cameo anywhere else in this story.

Processor: *sulks childishly before vanishing*.

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Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize from LOTR, nor the cover photo, just Billie *and that's probably a good thing too*. I also make no profit from writing this.

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Chapter Two: The Lazarus Effect

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To say Billie Turner awoke with the feeling that something wasn't _quite_ right was a gross understatement. The moment she tried to open her eyes a migraine exploded behind them, her skull feeling two sizes too small for her brain and mouth drier than Death Valley. Curling on her side and clutching her head in her hands she waited for the nausea and obnoxious ringing in her ears to pass.

Several minutes elapsed before she was able to open them and even then they were narrowed slits. She could barely see through her eyelashes and settled for closing them once more. A beat passed, then another, and her eyes snapped open fully. Billie sat up abruptly, forced to wait for her double vision to return to single before the thought of trying to stand even crossed her mind.

Raking her hands back through her disheveled hair she cast a glance down at her chest. She was still clothed in her light green scrubs and scuffed off-white trainers. There was no tear in the front of her top as she peered down the front of her undershirt, expecting to see a bullet hole only to find unblemished skin with a faint white scar resting above her left breast.

"Oh god," she groaned weakly, bile swooping up her throat and gracing the back of her tongue. Billie glanced down at her shaky hands before resting the left over her heart, feeling it thump lazily against her breastbone. Okay, so she was alive and above dirt, that was good.

That was very good.

It took her some time to get her legs to work again (rigor mortis she had thought to herself with a grim smile) and when she was able to stand she fell promptly on her face.

"I hate myself. So much," she muttered into the patch of wet leaves beneath her. She sat up once more, rubbing her face somewhat clean with her shirt and spitting out a bit of dirt. Her legs were splayed out before her as she rested her weight back on her hands, taking stock of her surroundings.

She was in a forest, alone, unable to walk, having recently returned from the dead and she was absolutely _starving_.

Fan-freaking-tastic.

Sunlight filtered through the branches overhead as light and shadow danced across her skin. The scent of composting leaves was hanging in the air around her like a sort of miasma and the ground was littered with sparse grass, scattered shrubs and fallen logs. It was…surprisingly airy.

After a few minutes Billie tried standing once more, this time a bit more skillfully than the last. She hobbled over to a fallen branch, making sure it was free of briars before picking it up. It was thick and sturdy, a good walking stick she decided as she began the arduous task of walking. Billie had settled into a slow, clumsy gait but at least she was mobile.

Billie froze upon hearing the crackle of dead leaves behind her, clutching her stick to her chest as she looked fearfully over her shoulder only to see she was alone just as she had been for the past…

However long she had been there.

Wherever 'there' happened to be' of course…

A nervous laugh bubbled passed her lips, cursing her paranoia before starting to limp along a bit faster than she had been. She spun on her heel upon hearing the leaves move once more. There wasn't a breeze she could feel (the sweat-drenched bangs clinging to her forehead a testament of that) though there was nothing there.

"Okay. You're making me nervous," she said aloud, swallowing tightly as her coffee-colored eyes darted fearfully around the small glade; "You won't like me when I'm nervous."

Dismayed (and slightly surprised, given the crazy situation she had somehow landed herself in) when she received no response Billie slowly turned forward only to see a squirrel rummaging through the shrubs up ahead. Laughing timidly once more she began walking only to nearly step on a mottled black and gray snake who apparently decided 'hey, let me slither in front of Billie and totally wreck her day! Lol!11!'

Billie blinked once, twice.

After shamelessly screaming her head off (because she knew damn well anyone else would have done the same in that situation and those who said they wouldn't have were liars) Billie took off in the opposite direction. She ignored the briars clinging to her pants and the branches scratching at her forearms as she practically flew by them.

She was apparently capable of amazing feats of agility whenever she was terrified.

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"_That was cruel, Orom__ë__."_

"_How was it cruel? By the time she reaches Imladris she will have died of old age and all the Eldar will have sailed. I simply gave her a little…incentive…to move faster." _

"_By preying on her fears? I would expect something like that of Melkor perhaps but not of you." _

_Orom__ë__ cringed at the disapproving tone in his spouse's voice as well as the way she spoke His name so casually before squaring his shoulders; "Mandos says we need her alive, V__á__na." _

"_Mandos also said that he would refrain from tampering with her bodily form or gracing her with Eldar magic-." _

"_He did neither. W-well, n-not really." Orom__ë was quick to defend his fellow Valar at the expense of receiving a very nasty look from his beloved that had him cringing once more (and that also told him he was going to be sleeping alone for a few centuries for that remark); "He merely…gave her the tools she will need to see her role through and besides-," he trailed off, closing his eyes as the exotic girl-child appeared in his mind, seeing her trip pathetically over a tree root and tumble to the ground. He winced sympathetically before his eyes slid open and he looked uneasily at Vána;_

"_I have a feeling she will need all the help she can damn well get…"_

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End Chapter Two

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I liked writing the ending, the banter between the Valar. Short chapter *quite short, my goodness, barely nine hundred and fifty words* but I wanted to write more. So I did *grin*. I'm sure that they wouldn't so much as even think of mentioning Melkor in casual conversation ever but hey, a bit of comic relief for a tense situation. Heed the AU tag if you're a Tolkien purist and it bothers you that much. I've got so many ideas for this it's wonderful. I also know exactly how their first meeting is going to play out and let me say, it's not going to be what you'd expect…*evil laugh*. There are going to be some serious plot twists in this as I don't want this to be your typical GIME. Anyways, feel free to review if you enjoyed and even if you didn't (though if you didn't, I'm sorry…?).


	4. Chapter Three

A/N: I can't possibly be the only one who hates it when authors hold their story hostage for reviews, right? I mean, there's nothing wrong with asking for feedback, since we're all review whores (some of us just hide it better than others *sheepish grin*) but seriously, it's annoying. Anyways, thanks to those who have reviewed so far. Really, you guys give me such an embarrassingly large ego, it's wonderful.

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Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I do not own it, only Billie (and my grammar errors) and I make no profit from this in any way, shape, form, and/or xenotype.

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Chapter Three: Fraternizing With the Enemy

Warnings: descriptions of blood, gore, and violence (and Billie's sailor mouth)

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Billie didn't know how far she ran; all she cared about was putting some serious distance between her and that- that _thing_. She was not overly fond of anything that moved in a manner that normal earth-dwelling animals were not supposed to (e.g. snakes, frogs, lizards, and the like). The only reason she stopped too was because of the burning pain shooting through her right leg and the stitch in her side that was robbing her of breath.

"Ow, ahh, ch-charley horse!" She wheezed, reduced to hobbling pathetically and stumbling against a tree trunk for support. Doubling over at the waist she hissed in pain, rubbing out the muscles that had seized tightly in her right calf. Once she caught her breath and regained feeling in her toes Billie stood upright.

Her lower lip trembled, eyes welling with tears of frustration that she didn't bother wiping away. Winding her arms around her middle she began walking once more before feeling something steadily thump against her thigh. She glanced down curiously at the cargo pocket on her left leg, reaching into it before withdrawing her smartphone. She had completely forgotten about it (considering they weren't even supposed to have their phones on them when working), having shoved it in her pocket when she first clocked in (ten minutes late but never mind that).

It was covered in scratches but the screen illuminated as she hit the power button. It took several moments to warm up and a few seconds later Billie was greeted to the sight of her screensaver, a picture of her and her closest friend, Jess, in matching 'Thing 1' and 'Thing 2' t-shirts. The thought of her friend nearly brought tears to her eyes once more but she blinked them back and instead raised her phone in the air in a rather crude imitation of Raifiki lifting Simba up in The Lion King.

"Yeah, 'five bars' my ass," she muttered sardonically, beginning to wander around again in a vain attempt to find a signal.

At least that had been the plan before her foot sank into a shallow hole (probably some creepy-crawlies home in fact) hidden by a patch of grass and she rolled her ankle. She cursed aloud as she tripped, arms wind milling to get her balance. Her phone ended up flying from her hand, bouncing across the ground with several painfully audible cracks before coming to rest at the base of a tree. The screen flickered weakly a few times before going completely dark.

Billie simply stared at it for several long minutes before raising her eyes to the tree line above her with a dismayed sigh; "Hey Nambo! What the hell do you want from me? Huh?!" Fear quickly gave way to anger as she limped to her now-demolished phone, snatching it off the ground; "Well? Can you just…I don't know…give me a sign maybe? Anything?"

She rested her hands on her hips, glaring at the sky. She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted to the heavens as loud as she could; "Hey! Are you even listening to me!?"

A low, rasping snarl answered her.

Billie stiffened, muscles taut with fear as she slowly glanced over her shoulder. Standing not even ten paces behind her was the largest dog she had ever seen. Well, perhaps dog wasn't a good word for it, it looked more like a cross between a wolf and a bear.

Its lips bore back in a snarl, baring sharp yellowed teeth as its hackles rose. Its fur was a sleek dark russet color, slightly marred by twigs and stray leaves. Unwilling to keep her back to it Billie turned sideways, keeping it in her line of sight but not making eye contact. Its body was straight and stiff, head, shoulders and hips aligned, completely unafraid of her.

The beast began advancing and she fought the unbearable urge to flee;

_D-don't run. Running will trigger the prey drive instinct for him to chase you and you sure as hell won't be outrunning him. _

Inhaling deeply to steady her nerves Billie issued a commanding; "Down boy." He paused, head tilting inquisitively to the side as she nervously wet her lips and spoke in a louder tone of voice; "Go home."

It seemed entirely unswayed by her commands, continuing to press on and she curled fingers into fists at her sides to protect them. Sweet merciful monkey crap it was barely a head shorter than she was! Its hot breath fanned over the side of her face, reeking of carrion and decay but she didn't move, hoping it wasn't about to take a chunk out of her cheek.

He sniffed her, nudging at her side and bumping against her as he circled her as though to show her who was in charge. Billie only assumed he was getting bored, not getting a reaction out of her before pausing in his 'inspection', head cocked as though listening for something. He gave her one last growl, snapping at her hand but not making contact as he disappeared into the thick undergrowth.

Billie exhaled a sharp sigh of relief, waiting a few minutes to make sure he was gone more before turning tail and hauling ass in the opposite direction.

* * *

"Okay, the least you could've done after pulling a 'Lazarus' on me is given me some better running shoes," Billie complained aloud, rubbing out the cramps in her legs for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day. She rubbed her right ankle absentmindedly; it wasn't swollen but it was tender to the touch and she felt a sharp twinge of pain whenever she put weight on it.

Her cross-country wind sprints hadn't helped it either.

Speaking of which, she was still in the damn woods. She had to have run a good mile or eight over the past few hours, this forest was freaking huge. Either that or she had been running in circles and knowing her luck it was the latter.

"FML," she groaned, burying her face into her palms and smoothing her sweat-drenched hair back from her heated cheeks. Dirt was caked to her skin, sticky briars clung to her pants and hair, and to top it all off she had to pee.

Badly.

Billie wasn't an outdoorsy girl. The most interaction she got with the wilderness was watching Bear Grylls on the Discovery Channel and that was only because he was super cute. Now she began racking her brain for anything she remembered from the show but unfortunately the only thing that came to mind was;

'_Lost in the wilderness? Better drink my own piss.'_

"Damn you internet memes!" She hissed in annoyance, combing her fingers through her hair, fastening it out of her face with her fraying ponytail holder and shifting her weight from one leg to the other.

Billie glanced around the small hollow. Necessity won out over embarrassment, unsurprisingly, and seconds later she ducked behind a tree and relieved herself.

Feeling much, much better she dragged her pants back up over her hips, securing the drawstrings before stepping out from behind said-tree. Billie managed all of ten steps before something akin to a train slammed into the space between her shoulder blades, sending her sprawling forward onto the ground, knocking the wind out of her.

Almost as immediately as the weight had appeared it vanished and Billie raised her head just enough to see the wolf-hybrid she had encountered earlier bolting through the thicket.

"The hell-?" She began to rise only to hear gruff snarling coming from behind her as she scrambled behind the closest tree, pressing herself back against the trunk as though it would hide her better. Curling her knees to her chest her breath came in short labored pants, hearing heavy footsteps crash through the undergrowth as several more wolves passed her hiding spot.

Billie clasped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming as one of the animals stumbled, an arrow protruding from the space just behind its left shoulder before sliding across the ground, its muzzle stopping a few inches short of her sneakers. It was a kill shot, directly into either its heart or its lung. She could hear shouting coming from somewhere to her right though she couldn't make heads or tails of the dialect. Two figures on horseback thundered passed her so quickly the breeze from their swift passing lifted her bangs from her eyes.

They were clad in what looked like dark mottled gray cloaks for lack of a better word, hoods drawn up over their faces. Billie got one last glimpse of the men before they left her line of sight and released a breath she hadn't known she was holding. Edging out from behind her cover and away from the dead animal Billie made to follow them (considering that they were leaving quite a trail for her to do so) before hearing a quiet whimper.

She spun around, seeing a smaller version of the crossbreeds slink out from beneath a berry bush across the clearing. It was black in color with a silver stripe running down the length of its back to the end of its short stubby tail. Billie watched it creep cautiously towards the dead female on its stomach, sniffing it timidly and pawing at it with a weak mewling sound.

Her heart sank in realization as she examined the similarity in color between the two canines. Her mouth formed a slight 'o' in understanding as it continued pawing at its mother, whimpering and nudging her muzzle with his, trying to rouse her.

"Poor baby," Billie whispered aloud only for the pup to spin around, baring his teeth and raising his hackles in a very poor attempt at intimidation. It lunged at her but Billie knelt above it, grabbing it in a humane hold her teachers had taught her back in school, keeping her hand on the back of its neck firmly. It was a hold often used by groomers whenever they had to clip a larger animal's nails that would prevent him from being able to move or bite her.

At least, that had been the plan before it twisted its head, snapping at her hand that was holding it in place by its loose scruff; "Holy shit it's part honey badger too!" She cried in surprise. Billie narrowly avoided losing a finger, jerking her hand back only for the canine to wiggle out from beneath her during her lapse in concentration.

Billie took several steps back, legs bumping against a flat-topped boulder behind her that she immediately took refuge on.

_C'mon Billie, just channel your inner 'dog whisperer'._

"Aren't you fierce?" She joked weakly though remained atop her perch that put her a few feet above the snarling pup beneath her; "I think I'm going to call you…Skunk. If not for the coloring but for how freaking bad you stink." Her nose wrinkled in disgust when the wind picked up and carried his scent towards her.

"Run along Skunk," she made a casual shooing motion with her hands; "Go catch up with…," she trailed off, wondering if the men had killed the rest of the pack. Billie nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard something rustle in the bushes behind her. In an amazing feat of agility (her old track and field coach would have been proud) she leapt up, pivoting sharply on her heel (and ignoring the sharp whine of protest her ankle gave her) to face a man swathed in scarlet and black clothing standing behind her. His features were obscured by a cloth mask covering most of his face aside from his dark eyes and he wore what looked like tarnished gold armor.

_He's a ninja._

Billie would have laughed at the thought had she remembered how to, instead taking careful stock of the new arrival.

He was leaning heavily on a tree for support, blood steadily leaking from a wound on his right leg and in his left hand he held a bloodied serrated knife. Having decided the man in front of her was more of a threat than the animal behind (at least at the moment) she kept her eyes trained on him. He took a step towards her, then another before his eyes widened, hushed words escaping him as he pitched forward onto his knees and collapsed onto the ground.

Now, conventional wisdom would say to not go near the man with the bloodstained knife and instead put as much space between her and him as possible. Unfortunately for her (and luckily for him) Billie didn't have it in her to leave someone when they obviously needed help.

"A-are you okay?" She called from across the clearing, shifting her weight awkwardly from one leg to the other; "Sir?"

When she received no answer Billie started forward cautiously. Upon reaching the man she nudged him gently with her foot, a weak groan of pain escaping him and prompting her to crouch at his side. Carefully rolling him onto his back and making sure he was still breathing she allowed her eyes to scrutinize him. Billie sucked in a startled breath when her gaze landed on the wound on his calf, bile beginning to rise in her throat.

She vaguely recalled one of the essays she had written for school; 'The anatomy of a dog bite'. Canines had large, sharp teeth and powerful muscles in their jaws made for tearing meat. Dog bites were usually puncture wounds; they used their front teeth to 'pin' their victim and the surrounding to bite and pull at the skin and when their victim struggled against it that was when the skin would begin tearing and cause bleeding and scarring.

Not to mention the host of problems that came after being bit by a dog. Their saliva carried a smorgasbord of bacteria, resulting in a high probability of infection if left untreated.

Billie swallowed tightly, eyes focused on his leg which looked like it had gone through a meat grinder. She had a strong stomach for most things but this was-

This was just too much.

_Focus Billie, focus._

As her brain swept into overdrive, beginning to list the things she needed to do she didn't notice her 'charge' open his eyes wearily, training them on her.

"Rohirrim?"

The recently-revived woman jolted in alarm, leaping back several paces from the oddly-dressed man and nearly trampling Skunk as a result who snapped at her leg in annoyance. Resisting the urge to give said-animal a swift kick Billie turned her hazel eyes back to the injured man;

"Rohirrim?" He rasped once more.

"Row-what?" She said in confusion as he began speaking. She had absolutely no idea what he was saying and instead stared blankly at him until he trailed off slowly; "I need to clean your wound," Billie said slowly, pointing at his leg to emphasize her statement; "Do you have any water?"

It was his turn to give her a blank look. There was an obvious language barrier between them as she ran her hands over her face; "Water? Agua? Eau? Wasser-? H20? No…?" She mimed drinking from an imaginary cup but he remained silent.

_God, I suck at charades._

"Nîn?"

"Sure, why not?" Billie sighed in annoyance. He struggled to sit up; "Hey, take it easy."

"Nîn," he said again, clambering unsteadily to his feet and beginning to limp off into the trees. Billie arched a brow, folding her arms loosely over her chest as Skunk sat at her left side. He paused, having realized she wasn't following him and glanced over his shoulder, giving her the universal sign of 'follow me' with a wave of his hand.

"This can only end badly," Billie muttered, shoving her hands into her pockets and trailing after him.

* * *

About ten minutes later they came across what looked like the remains of a camp that a tornado had recently swept through. Bodies, both human and canine, were strewn about and she had to pause for a moment with her hand clamped over her mouth to keep from retching at the sight.

"Holy shit," she murmured, picking her way carefully through the camp. She paused, however, crouching to pick up a dirt-caked dagger hidden partially by the tall grass. It wasn't as though she knew how to use one but she'd be damned if she followed the wounded man blindly into a bad situation.

A few minutes more and they reached a shoddily-pitched tent, the man moving the flaps aside before entering. Strengthening her grip on the knife in her hand Billie eased forward, slightly emboldened by the fact that Skunk was still trotting behind her and ducked into the tent. She was surprised to see a pallet laid out for sleeping as well as a low table set up to the side. Atop it was what she guessed were maps as well as a dark clay jug.

"Nîn," her mystery man said, pointing at said-jug before collapsing on his pallet with a groan. Billie set the knife aside but still in reach and picked up a cloth sitting beside the urn. She peered into it, greeted by the sight of what looked like clean water. She licked her dry lips, suddenly fervently aware of how thirsty she was. Putting her own needs on the back burner for the moment Billie crouched beside the man who had rolled back the leg of his pants.

_Okay Billie, it looks worse than it actually is. It always does. _

She tasted sour bile on the back of her tongue once more and cringed, raking her hands back through her hair nervously.

_Shit, it looks __really__ bad…_

Billie poured a bit of the jug into a small basin, attempting to clean her hands and succeeding in getting the dirt out from beneath her nails at least.

"Do you have any soap?" She looked up at him, drying her hands on what she hoped was a clean towel; "Or liquor maybe? Anything over 160 proof will work."

Silence.

"Vodka? Whiskey?"

"…"

"Never mind," she muttered, beginning to wipe away the blood gently. He hissed quietly, knee jerking weakly but she pressed on.

By the time she had finished cleaning his wound the water in the basin had taken on a dark rusty red color. Billie examined his wound, noting there was no foul smell emitting from it which meant it probably wasn't infected or at least it wasn't yet, and that it wasn't as deep as she originally thought. It was also mostly clean of any debris that had found its way into the wound.

Pressing a clean(er) cloth against his leg to staunch the bleeding she glanced up at him; "First aid kit?"

"…"

"Bandages? Dressings? Sutures kit?"

"…"

"God damn," she nearly growled, grasping his hand and pressing it over the cloth; "Keep pressure on that, I'll be right back."

Billie stood, absentmindedly wiping her hands on her thighs and streaking blood across her pants. She exited the tent, entering another that wasn't in shambles. A sigh of relief escaped her when her eyes landed on an upended brown satchel on a blanket that had what looked like rolls of bandages and other medicinal supplies in it.

"Hallelujah," she murmured, picking it up and rifling through it. A few jars sat at the bottom, unbroken. She hoped they were ointment of some kind and brought the entire bag back to her patient's tent.

Upon entering she was greeted with the sight of Skunk growling at said-patient who was curled back against the pallet, eyes wide with what she guessed was fear.

"Down boy," Billie scolded him, surprised when he backed off and came to her side once more. Brushing off the odd way he was acting Billie handed the man the bag she had found; "Here."

She sat before him, watching him sift through it before withdrawing a few rolls of cloth bandages and began tending to himself. Billie sat by idly, absentmindedly picking at the dirt beneath her nails with the knife she had found.

Nearly half an hour had to have passed before he began wrapping his wound. Billie had turned away when he began stitching himself up with a crude sutures kit. There was no forceps for the needle, he did it all by hand and it made her stomach churn violently. Inhaling shakily to settle her nerves Billie chanced a look back at the man.

He had removed his hood and mask, revealing sharp angular features, a mess of dark hair and tanned skin. His eyes were a smoldering dark amber color surrounded by what looked like eyeliner and a pale jagged scar ran from his hairline down the left of his face to his jaw. It looked like an old knife wound but given the circumstances she had encountered him under it wasn't all that surprising. If Billie had to guess his heritage she would have said Middle-Eastern or Arabian, he appeared very exotic.

And rather handsome, all things considered, but moving on!

"Náman," he said suddenly, resting his hand on his chest.

"Nah mon?" She echoed, seeing the sour look he gave her.

"Náman," he said once more, slower this time.

"Nah'mehn?" He nodded in affirmation even though she butchered his name.

She shrugged, pointing to herself; "Billie."

He gave her a 'WTF' look she was used to receiving whenever she gave people her name; "B-Billie…?"

"Don't ask," she muttered, hugging her knees to her chest.

"Billie, Rohirrim?"

"No, no 'Rohirrim'," she said with a shake of her head. He seemed to relax at her declination of being 'Rohirrim', whatever that meant. It sounded stupidly familiar but she couldn't quite recall why and was kicking herself as a result. Billie cocked a brow in question; "Náman, Rohirrim?"

He surprised her by eliciting a throaty chuckle, shaking his head in what she guessed was amusement; "What? What are you then?"

Náman raised his dark eyes to meet hers, a slow smile spreading over his lips that made a shiver crawl down her spine as he spoke two words; "Haradrim. Hasharin."

* * *

Ta da! I had a bunch of fun writing this chapter. Bet you weren't expecting the twist at the end (maybe you were, I don't know). I said I wanted to do something different and this is different (I hope). Don't worry you Elrohir fans, he'll be popping up soon (maybe sooner if you hit that pretty button down there *sheepish grin*). All will be explained in due time. Till next time kiddies. Cheers.


	5. Chapter Four

A/N: See note at bottom.

* * *

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it. Just my OC's and occasional grammar booboos and I make no monetary gain writing this.

* * *

Chapter Four: Learning Curve

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"Haradrim?" Billie echoed as he slowly nodded his head. She began to rise from the mat she was sitting upon nervously; "I don't know what that means."

Náman stood, towering over her by a good six or seven inches and she inhaled sharply in surprise. He was surprisingly agile for a wounded man and she instinctively raised the knife she had been holding in front of her (not that she had any idea how to use it skillfully). He arched a brow, an almost cocky smirk gracing his lips and causing her to feel increasingly panicky.

"St-stay away from me."

He shook his head 'no' as though he understood her but she had a feeling he didn't. For every step he took forward she took one back until she had backed completely out of the tent.

And then he lunged at her.

A fairly effeminate shriek of fear escaped Billie's lips as she stumbled backwards, swinging the knife wildly his way only to have her wrist captured in an iron-clad grip. She squealed in pain when he suddenly wrenched her arm awkwardly to the side, disarming her with ease and driving her to her knees.

Náman released her after a moment though and she scrambled backwards on the ground, choked-back sobs escaping her lips as she clutched her bruised wrist to her chest. She tried blinking the tears back beginning to obscure her vision only to hear something that sounded a lot like laughter come from the 'Haradrim' man standing over her.

"Wh-what are you d-doing-?" Billie managed to say before he knelt carefully, a quiet grunt escaping his lips as he bent his right knee before picking up her fallen knife. She recoiled when he held the knife out to her, gesturing for her to take it. Billie all-but snatched it from his palm, climbing unsteadily to her feet.

"_Mkali, sanura_," he laughed, taking a step back and motioning to her; "_Tena_."

"_Tena_?" She echoed, voice trembling pitifully as he patted his chest and motioned to her knife, nodding.

"_Tena_."

Did he want her to attack him again?

She nervously wet her lips, adrenaline sharpening her reflexes.

"_Tena_!" He barked suddenly, startling her as she lunged forward at him. He caught her wrist once more though it wasn't painful like before. She flinched at the touch though Náman simply unwound her stiff fingers from the handle, adjusting her grip on it accordingly.

"_Tena_," he informed her, moving her arm slowly as though she were slashing/stabbing him before reversing the grip so she was holding it what Billie would later dub the 'Michael Myers way'; "_Kutetea_." He moved her arm back towards her, holding it up before her as though she were blocking an imaginary object.

"_T-tena_," she stammered, trying to switch back to the first hold before seeing him shake his head; "Wh-what'd I do-?" Náman carefully took her arm in hand once more before bending her elbow inwards and bringing the knife point to her abdomen; "O-oh. That's…not good." Billie fixed her grip, looking up at him for approval and seeing him smile with a nod.

"_Nzuri sana, sanura_," the exotic male replied, reaching forward and boldly ruffling her hair.

"Quit it!" Billie snapped, swatting his hand away with her free left, eliciting another laugh from him. She exhaled an irritated sigh though she was unable to keep from smiling slightly.

It was what would be the start of a beautiful (and occasionally fucked up) friendship…

* * *

After helping Náman clean up what remained of the camp she managed to procure a pair of trousers and a dark scarlet tunic roughly her size. She found a small sewing kit amongst the disaster and spent a few hours hemming them to fit her smaller frame.

_Thank god for Home Economics…_

They got together a huge pyre and burned the bodies the next morning. The smell was terrible, even through the thick cloth of her newly acquired veil and the smoke made her eyes burn and tear up. She could hear him murmur something she didn't quite understand, assuming it was a prayer for his fallen comrades.

When the smoke had cleared and all that remained were charred bones Billie helped him bury them, with Skunk's assistance of course. The little bastard had been digging holes all around camp that afternoon, several of which Billie had nearly stepped in (and Náman actually did so, which didn't end well in the slightest).

Later that night Billie was introduced to 'Arda' cooking. It hadn't tasted bad going down but tasted terrible coming back up. She was left violently ill for nearly a week, not used to the food. Chills, nausea, vomiting, the works. She would have given her left arm for some pepto bismal that week. However, during that week she learned what herbs could be found in the wilderness to calm an upset stomach as well as slaking a fever (and she put them to some damn good use too).

When Billie wasn't busy throwing up her vital organs, passed out, hallucinating, or just moaning and groaning pitifully Náman spent the time teaching her some basic words in 'Adûni' or 'Westron'. Her vocabulary now consisted of 'hello', 'goodbye', 'yes', 'no', 'go', 'stop', 'tree', 'tent', 'fire', 'bush', and 'knife' as well as learning how to count to twenty.

Once that week from hell had passed Billie didn't have any more problems with the cuisine (though she nursed a caffeine deprivation headache for several days longer). She had also widened her vocabulary to include the occasional swear word she heard Náman growl whenever he had to limp around camp and trip over Skunk now known as 'Asim' which Náman explained meant 'protector' in his people's language.

And he tended to be rather protective of her in fact.

Whenever Billie had to venture from camp to the fast-running stream less than a hundred yards away he was always at her heels. At first she found it endearing, then it became annoying very, very quickly. As in, she couldn't even pee without him hovering around her side.

And she had learned the hard way that it was a really, really bad idea to leave a 'warg' as she now knew him as unsupervised in a tent when she went about her business. Billie returned to camp less than five minutes later after collecting water and checking the snares Náman had set up one day only to see said-tent's flaps torn to ribbons and Asim staring up at her with a cheesy doggy grin.

Billie thought it was cute.

Náman? Eh, not so much…

He wasn't particularly fond of Asim at all really but Billie figured maybe he was a cat person or something.

Her hazel eyes landed on the man in question who was busy fletching newly-whittled arrows he had made with feathers. He worked so quickly but efficiently, with an almost fluid grace to his movements before pausing. Billie cocked a brow, wondering why he had stopped only to realize she had been caught staring at him as their eyes locked.

She was blushing.

…

Holy _shit_ was she _blushing_!

It began to warm up, to flush, from the inside. It started in her cheeks and crept outward until she knew, _just knew_, that any low flying aircraft in the vicinity could mistake her for a warning beacon.

Billie turned her gaze upwards at the thought. It had only then struck her that not once had she heard a plane pass overhead. Maybe they didn't have planes in Arda…? Wherever the hell 'Arda' was anyways. She shook her head with a sigh, brushing her palms off on her thighs before turning and heading back to her tent, uncomfortably aware of his sharp gilded eyes on her back the entire time.

* * *

A month after the burning Náman roused her one morning and from what she gathered from his broken speech it was apparently time to move on. She noticed a rough-hewn bow slung on his back along with a quiver of arrows he had been working on and a knife hanging on his left hip. He left her tent without another word, rousing Asim with a gentle nudge of his boot as he passed the warg, evading the lazy snap taken at his foot.

Billie wiped the sleep from her eyes, sitting up on her lumpy pallet and reaching for her clothes groggily, pulling the tunic on over her undershirt and fastening the laces. Raking her hands back through her hair she kicked the blankets off, making sure no creepy crawlies had decided to nest in her sneakers before donning them. She then reached for her lightweight leather jerkin, fastening the sparse metal plates that served as armor for 'Haradrim' over it as per Náman's request.

Leaving her hood and veil down Billie strapped the serrated knife she had found a few weeks earlier to her hip, exiting the small shelter. "Náman?" She called, looking around the small campsite.

"Here," he replied from his own tent. Billie shoved the flap aside, seeing him looking over a map for what had to have been the hundredth time that week.

"Where…?" She struggled to form a complete sentence; "Where go?"

He tapped a corner of the map, turning those piercing amber eyes her way; "Pelagrir. Resupply." She nodded in understanding, fastening her hair out of her eyes with a thin leather strap as best she could. After breaking their fast with some dried berries and deer jerky Billie packed her meager belongings consisting of three thin blankets, two extra changes of clothes, a bit of cook wear, a full canteen, and some first aid supplies.

Slinging the heavy bag onto her back she stood fully, patting Asim (though he would always be Skunk to her) on the head (who now stood almost waist-high on Billie. Wargs grew surprisingly quick), and kicked dirt over the fire.

"Far?" She asked the Haradrim man, seeing him tilt his head to the side as though in thought as he tapped his chin before answering.

"Sixteen leagues?"

Billie's eyes nearly bugged out of her head. That was a long, _long_ way, roughly 90 kilometers give or take if her math was up to par.

She knew the average person could walk about 5k an hour on flat even terrain and cover a good amount of ground. However, she had no idea what to expect and figured their journey could take upwards to three or four days as a result and that was assuming nothing else went wrong.

Billie felt his hand land on her head, mussing her hair playfully; "Come, _Kalere_."

She scowled, smacking his hand away at the usage of his nickname for her, meaning 'short woman'.

"Bold _sanura_," Náman chuckled lightly, hefting his pack over those impossibly broad shoulders as he skillfully evaded another swipe from Billie.

"No…_sanura_," she grumbled, folding her arms angrily over her chest and pouting.

"Come," he gestured to her to follow him as they left the remains of their camp in the rearview mirror and began the long trek to Pelagrir.

* * *

A/N: I have a feeling Elrohir will be showing up in probably…mm, three…maybe four chapters at the very most…? (I know guys, it's killing me too!) I just want to get Billie settled in Middle Earth and have some grasp of the language before that happens. Until then, I hope you guys enjoy Billie and Náman's shenanigans. And Skunk's too. Speaking of which, I'm surprised so many people liked him *laugh*. He was originally supposed to be killed off though I'm happy I didn't. He's starting to grow on me, the little devil. Anyways, long note is long. A HUGE all-caps thanks to everyone who's reviewed and that have favorited (not a word but it damn well should be) and/or followed this story so far. Seriously, it makes my day to know people like what I'm writing as much as I like writing it. My roommate made the suggestion to me that the 'Haradrim' language should be something exotic, so it's now Swahili (mostly because of the fact that there is no Harad dictionary online) so here's a rough translation guide:

Tena: attack

Nzuri sana: very good

Kutetea: defend

Mkali: fierce

Asim: protector [az-ehm]

Sanura: kitten

Kalere: short woman

Annndd I believe that's it. Thanks guys, see ya' later.


	6. Chapter Five

A/N: I am on a roll with this story, like a sesame seed bun with some nice cold cuts and some lettuce and tomato and cheese and mayo and…Sorry, I've got dinner on the brain. I'll stop wasting your time now. New chapter in three…two…one…action!

* * *

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I do not own it and that includes the…four or five song lyrics you come across further on (though you probably could figure it out on your own). I only own my OCs, grammar mishaps, and make no monetary gain from writing this.

* * *

Chapter Five: On the Road Again

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*Westron speech is '_italicized _

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As it turned out, Billie's math _was_ up to par though she hadn't taken into account just how damn out of shape she was. And she wasn't even out of shape! Being a healthy weight for someone of her height (a staggering 5'4 in fact) and graced with the near-constant presence of dedicated 'Ironman Triathletes' for parents for the first twenty years of her life left her in better shape than over 80% of her peers.

But that was before she died and popped up in Neverland or Wonderland or Shangri La or wherever the hell she was.

…

It could very well have been hell for all she knew.

In fact, that's what she was banking on at this point.

Clutching at the throbbing stitch in her side, struggling to stay upright she trudged wearily after Náman who was at least fifty paces ahead of her.

"At least you'll keep me company, right Skunk?" She glanced over her shoulder only to see the aforementioned-warg trot passed her to catch up with Náman who gave him a light pat on the head followed by a piece of jerky; "Traitor."

He seemed to have finally realized she was lagging behind and paused beneath a shady tree to wait for her to catch up. Billie stumbled to his side, taking a swift draught from her water skin and sighing as she slumped to the ground for a breather, rubbing out the achy muscles in her calves. They had been walking since sunrise with only brief respites every few hours.

The gilded-eyed male sat beside her, leaning back against the tree trunk and waiting for her to rise. It was day three of their voyage and most of it had been spent with Billie receiving the occasional linguistic lesson from Náman. Otherwise they walked in a relatively awkward silence only broken when Billie began humming along to the radio in her head.

"Ah, a horse, a horse. My kingdom for a pair of hiking boots. Hell, I'd trade a horse for a pair of hiking boots…," she trailed off; "Actually, I think I'd keep the horse."

Billie had grown up on a ranch in Oklahoma, her parents owning a private equine veterinarian practice. She learned how to ride a horse shortly after her fourth birthday and participated in her first junior dressage competition when she was fourteen where she placed sixth out of thirty participants. Her lips twitched into a slight smile at the memory. She loved dressage, there was something about the bond between horse and rider necessary to exhibit the precise movements necessary for 'horse gymnastics' as her steeplechase-loving dad called it with a roll of his eyes*. It had been about four years since she had last been on one however and she missed it dearly.

"_Rise_," she jumped in surprise when Náman spoke and pulled her from her daydreams. It was the first word she had heard him say all day and she climbed to her feet with a pitiful groan when her joints creaked in protest.

Billie cocked a brow in question, resting her hands on her hips; "_Move._"She groaned once more when he resumed walking, forcing her to shuffle after him unless she wanted to be left behind.

"_Here. Eat." _She willingly accepted the jerky he held out to her, wolfing it down with a vocalization of happiness that was somewhere between a delighted sigh and a moan. Shamelessly licking her salty fingers she felt his hand rest on her head lightly as her eyes rose to meet his, a slight smirk playing on his lips. Realization dawned on her in that instant as her hand shot up to smack his away though he danced out of her reach with a throaty laugh.

"_You-you-!_" She paused, searching for the Westron or Haradrim equivalent to the word 'douche bag' but came up with nothing and settled for the universal exclamation for annoyance; "Argh!"

He laughed again, adjusting his pack and patting his right thigh mockingly with a short high-pitched whistle. Billie merely tossed a rude 21st Century gesture his way, stuck her tongue out at him childishly and began planning his comeuppance. After all, she had about eight leagues left in which to do so.

* * *

"-she can't sing, she can't dance. But who cares? She walks like Rihanna~!"

"_Stop._"

"-still like that old time rock and roll! That kinda music just soothes the soul! I reminisce about the days of old with that old time rock and roll-!"

"_Billie_."

"-I don't care that the whole club is dead 'cause the party's in my head, the party's in my head-!"

"…"

"-I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it hurts~!"

"…"

"Náman."

"…"

"Náman?"

"…"

"Náman-?" Billie paused, looking over her shoulder questioningly only to realize that he was no longer behind her. She swallowed thickly, eyes shifting around the thicket nervously; "Náman?" She called a bit louder, beginning to retrace her steps.

_Okay Billie, don't panic._

She heard a twig snap (one she probably stepped on in fact) and spun around, clutching her knife tightly with shaky fingers, breath hitching in alarm.

_St-stop p-panicking woman! Get a grip!_

She wet her lips nervously, trying to steady both her nerves and her heart rate. Surely he was just getting her back for being a royal pain in his royal ass. He wouldn't just ditch her in the middle of nowhere…

…right…?

_I'm not __that__ obnoxious to warrant being abandoned. He didn't even know what I was singing._

…

…_right_…?

…

_Right?!_

"Right," she said quietly to herself before a soft snort of laughter escaped her. Her mom had always joked that it's okay to talk to yourself, as long as you don't start talking back. A small smile graced her lips before she turned, only to let out a high-pitched scream when she saw Náman standing behind her.

To his credit he didn't jump at all though Billie sure the hell did, arms wind milling in an attempt to gain her balance before tripping backwards over Skunk. Just as she was about to hit the ground she felt him grab her flailing arms, mindful of the knife in her hand, pulling her to her feet effortlessly as she fell against his chest with a thump.

"'Tank yew," she muttered into his tunic, feeling his chest vibrate slightly with a repressed laugh as he set her upright.

"_Mjinga_," he chuckled, shaking his head before turning to walk once more. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out he just called her stupid or something similar and she resigned herself to slinking after him with her tail between her legs.

* * *

Billie trudged sluggishly behind the seemingly tireless man. Her blisters had blisters, her back was sore, and she was sunburnt too.

Fan-freaking-tastic.

The sun was beginning to set, probably less than an hour left of daylight and for that Billie was grateful. She needed a nap (a coma would be the more accurate term), a wash, and some aloe vera.

Like, somewhere within the span of the next two minutes if at all possible.

"_Rest night._"

"Oh thank god!" She practically cried, raising her hands over her head and clasping them together in thanks, falling to her knees; "Hallelujah!"

Náman simply rolled his eyes as he shucked off his pack, ignoring her for the time being as they got camp set up for the night. Billie volunteered to get the fire going though she wasn't the least bit offended when Náman shook his head 'no' several times, taking the pieces of flint and steel from her gently and shooing her off to collect water, Skunk trotting obediently at her heels. They tried to camp near a water source whenever possible and Billie was looking forward to being able to get some dirt and grime off her skin.

One 'Arda' equivalent of a sponge bath later Billie was feeling about four pounds lighter and there was a noticeable bounce in her step when she returned to the glade with full water skins. She had learned you either drink what water you can find (within reason) or you suffer dehydration. As usual she had learned that lesson the hard way.

Plopping down onto her bedroll that Náman was nice enough to lay out for her she accepted her ration of dried fruit and something similar to salted beef. She didn't question what he placed in front of her to eat anymore and instead accepted it gratefully.

After 'dinner' she sat close to the fire, warming her hands and listening to Náman sing quietly in his native tongue. She wished she knew more of the language but it sounded beautiful all the same.

Once their evening ritual was done Billie turned in for the night, utilizing Skunk as an impromptu pillow. He would rouse her later for her watch (at least she hoped he would. He had a nasty habit of letting her sleep through the night without interruptions).

However, it wasn't Náman that woke her later that night but something far worse.

She shifted uncomfortably, curling on her side and trying to ignore the nauseous feeling in her stomach.

"Ugh," she groaned, rolling onto her back and rubbing her hands tiredly over her face before realization hit her with all the force of a freight train. She sat up abruptly, resting her hand over her stomach and chewing her lower lip nervously. Náman raised his head from the fire, looking at her tiredly. Billie offered him a weak smile, mimed sleeping with her hands under her head and pointed to him.

He accepted her offer to keep watch though she held her finger up as if to say 'wait' when he began to rise from his post and scurried off towards the stream with her pack in hand. She rested her hands on her belt, taking a deep breath as she loosened it and slid her trousers down her legs.

Her howl of anguish could be heard all the way to Mordor.

"Why?! Oh gods, why?!" She wailed, jerking her pants over her hips before Náman came to investigate and got an eyeful, dropping to the ground and burying her face in her palms.

"Okay, just think," she inhaled shakily; "My last shot was in March so…," she trailed off, counting the days before letting out another moan.

"You have to be fucking kidding me," Billie groaned in despair, smoothing her hair back from her face and glaring at the stars overhead; "The least you could've done after bringing me back is given me relief from my god damn menses!"

* * *

Yep, I'm a bitch. But let's face it, it's a subject very rarely touched on in GIME fanfiction with good reason I guess. No one really wants to read about something like that but I for one think it makes for a more realistic and believable character. Besides, as I said earlier, I'm a bitch and not everything can be sunshine and roses for Billie. I have some major, MAJOR (yeah, all-caps means I'm serious yo') twists planned for her and I can't wait to _really_ get the plot moving.

*I know as much about horses as the next writer on here (i.e. next to nothing that I haven't read in books or on the internet) and so I called a friend of mine who's known how to ride a horse since she could walk apparently (the same friend who got me up on one for the first time a few months ago and resulted in a dislocated elbow for yours truly). She proceeded to give me an earful for about an hour on horses and how to take care of them and went into the different types of equine competitions and loaded me up with a lot of useless useful information. So a big thanks to my friend Sam (who insisted I mention her) for the help. There's a reason Billie thinks about dressage, it wasn't useless rambling/filler backstory. Promise.

I know I haven't done this yet but I want to thank all those who have read and reviewed this story *ahem*:

**BrownEyedGirl87**

**faye50free**

**BlueRoseofWinter**

**CM**

**Guest [all of you!]**

**AJ**

**thecrownlessagainshallbeking (lovely username)**

**katnor**

And of course thanks to those who have favorited and followed this story as well. You guys rock.


	7. Chapter Six

A/N: So, earlier today my roommate thought it would be fun to put an air horn beneath my desk chair to scare me (she's been trolling about on YouTube for prank videos because she's been sick for the past week). Resulted in a broken coffee cup, a terrified puppy (which ended with a mess on the kitchen floor), and shaved about ten years off my life. Thank you friend. Just remember that karma's a bitch (sort of like you in fact). Okay, enough of this silly shit, we have a lot of ground to cover in this chapter so let's get to it.

* * *

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I clearly don't own it {Nothing LOTR-related, that's Tolkien and Jackson's area}, only my OCs and spelling mishaps. I make no monetary gain from this either.

* * *

Chapter Six: When in Arda…

Chapter Warnings: language and some disturbing imagery/violence

\/

"Ugh."

"…"

"_We please stop, Náman?"_

"…_No_…"

"Bastard."

"…" Billie glared at the back of his head, dragging her feet tiredly and wrapping her arms tightly around her middle as she hunched her shoulders forward. Billie was not one of those people who believed exercise was helpful to alleviate cramps.

Hell. No.

Extra strength Midol, a heating pad, a nap, and some chamomile tea worked wonders for her as opposed to going for a walk.

She was _thisclose_ to sitting where she stood, refusing to move any further until he let her rest. Her feet hurt and her head hurt and her back hurt and her tummy hurt and she-she was feeling so fat and-and everything was just a disaster and why was she even here?! She didn't know what was expected of her and why couldn't she just rest in peace with some cool wings and a halo or maybe go haunt some people like her ninth grade English teacher who gave her a D on her research paper? She missed her family and friends and Starbucks and indoor plumbing and toothbrush and tampons-

…

Sweet Jesus did she miss tampons. There was only so much you could do with an old scrub top after all…

The age-old saying 'you don't know what you've got 'till it's gone' repeated itself over and over again in her head mockingly (followed by the words 'they paved paradise and put up a parking lot'. She'd had the song stuck in her head for the majority of the day and it was starting to annoy her).

Billie sniffled, the sound catching Náman's attention as he glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes widening at the sight of hers beginning to well with tears. She immediately recognized the expression as what must be the universal male look for 'oh god I don't know how to deal with a crying woman what do I do?!' A strangled laugh that sounded more like a sob than anything else elicited from the young woman as she hung her head wearily.

"_You ill?"_ He asked, taking in her tearstained cheeks, the way she hugged her arms around her middle and the miserable look on her face.

"_Tired,_" she settled on saying. He cocked a brow, running a hand through his short black hair, glancing up at the sky for a few moments. She felt gross and grungy and was in desperate need of a proper wash.

Náman looked to her, then to the long road ahead and back to her. A soft sigh of resignation escaped him; "_Camp here." _

Billie was unable to keep from squealing in happiness, leaping forward and engulfing the startled man in a hug; "_Oh thank you, thank you, thank you Náman!_" She laughed, unabashedly squeezing him tightly, enjoying the feeling of close human contact for the first time in nearly two months. Only when he began squirming awkwardly, attempting to push her away did she release him.

He looked embarrassed, running his hand through his hair once more as he shrugged casually as if to say 'whatever, no big deal'. Billie managed another bright smile only slightly marred by the dirt streaked across her face (she would never understand how one could get so dirty simply by walking).

After clearing a small dell for their campsite and digging a pit for their fire Billie went off in search of the river they had been following for most of their journey that day, Skunk obediently at her heels. As soon as she disrobed and cleaned her clothes as well as she could without submerging them (she had little else to wear aside from that on her back and she wasn't about to wait until they were dry to don them) and sank into the water, immediately getting to work scrubbing her skin until it was pink.

"I'd give my left arm for some shampoo," she murmured, dunking her head underwater and combing out the snarls with her fingers. Cheerily humming the 'Rubber Ducky' song from Sesame Street under her breath she wasn't even aware of the figure creeping up on her and wouldn't have been had Skunk not let out a warning snarl (how could something so small be so loud?) and bounded forward into the bushes.

Billie's body was in motion before her brain registered what happened. Dressing haphazardly in her semi-clean trousers she hastily tied the laces to her tunic closed and grabbed her knife. She could hear the sounds of a scuffle coming from several yards away and moments later did a man clad in burgundy and dark brown come tumbling from the trees. He went to jump up but found himself with a foot planted firmly on his chest courtesy of a very angry and very volatile Billie.

"Who the fuck are you?!" She spat, cheeks flushed in embarrassment that someone had been spying on her and with that in mind she ground her heel firmly against his breastbone, enjoying how the peeping tom squirmed beneath her.

"Billie?" She heard Náman call questioningly, coming into her line of sight a few seconds later. His eyes went from the pissed off woman to the man on the ground before his eyes widened a fraction; "Duma?"

"Náman? _Nini bahati! Mwambie huyu kalere kutolewa mimi hii papo!" _Billie hadn't a single idea what he had said but she knew that 'kalere' meant 'short woman' and so she gave 'dumbass' or whoever he was a sharp boot in the ribs, ignoring the pain surging through her toes.

"Billie, _stop._" She glared at Náman, settling her hands on her hips in the universal women's gesture for 'you have some serious explaining to do mister'. He gestured to the man pinned beneath her foot; "_Friend, _Duma."

"_Friend?_ Well, your '_friend'_ is a pervert!" She spat. Náman merely blinked impassively at her though she allowed Duma to sit upright. Skunk came up behind her, slinking between her legs and nearly knocking her over as a result (he was a touch too big to do that anymore). His teeth were bared, a low growl rumbling in his chest and Billie took great pride in watching Duma visibly begin to sweat when presented with the warg once more.

Náman ignored the pair, reaching down to help his friend up, clasping him on the back as they began jabbering away in their native tongue; "_Nini ajabu kampuni kushika rafiki yangu._" Náman laughed at that, gesturing to Billie as she caught the word 'Dúnedain'.

"_No, no Dúnedain, Rohirrim," _Duma said with a shake of his head, nodding to her and then gesturing to his hair. Náman pursed his lips, saying something else that she didn't understand before partaking in a manly hug with Duma and turning to face her again.

"_Not far now,_" he assured her with a smile. Billie arched a brow, glaring at Duma who quickly averted his eyes with a bright blush on his olive-colored skin. He, like Náman, had dark hair only his nearly reached his shoulders and was much shaggier, looking oily and unwashed (not like she was one to say anything) and his eyes were dark brown in color.

"What-?" It was only then she realized how…drafty…she was feeling as she glanced down, seeing the laces of her tunic had come undone and was presenting the two men with a nice view of her tits.

_Freaking out to commence in T-minus three._

_Two._

_One…_

"You perverts!"

Swoosh, clang, thunk.

"Oww!"

\/

Once Billie was properly dressed and fed she sat around the fire with Skunk's head resting on her lap, a perpetually sour look on her face as she glared at Duma who hadn't looked her in the eye since she blackened his left one earlier that afternoon. The two Harad men were looking over a map Duma had presented him.

She flipped through a book he had given her, tracing her fingers over the pictures, the other hand absentmindedly scratching Skunk behind the ears. She almost felt bad about punching the other Harad in the face.

Almost.

She perked up when the word 'Pelargir' reached her ears, looking up; "_One league_."

"Fuck yeah!" She leapt up, punching her fist in the air in excitement and upsetting the warg lounging across her lap who grumbled his annoyance and slunk off to rest at Náman's side. The prospect of almost being at their destination made Billie very happy. Maybe she'd come across someone who could give her information about Arda and more importantly why she was there.

* * *

"On the road again. I can't wait to get on the road again~!" Billie skipped ahead of her guides with Skunk eagerly bouncing at her heels. Duma wasn't as bad as she pegged him and from what little she understood from his broken speech he was worried for her safety because of the warg watching her. He had presented her with a small pouch of herbs that had a scent similar to that of peppermint, having her place a piece under her tongue that helped alleviate her cramps.

She badgered him about what it was until he showed her a small flowering bush several hundred feet from their camp, showing her how to properly clip the leaves even. He had even offered to begin teaching her the westron alphabet and how to read. Billie figured it was in penance for him spying on her, regardless of how accidental it was.

Unfortunately while Duma took it upon himself to tackle her Arda education, Náman was steadfast that she learned how to defend herself. Whenever they stopped for a brief respite she was busy learning how to fight.

"_Attack."_

"_Defend." _

"_Defend." _

"_Watch your feet." _

"_Defend."_

"_Atta-Billie!" _She stumbled, falling gracelessly onto her ass with a thump, knife soaring from her hand. She heard Duma snort at her misfortune, raising a hand and snatching her knife out of the air before it hit him with ninja-like reflexes. Billie stared at him with both shock and adoration in her eyes as she scrambled to her feet.

"Teach me how to do that!" Náman scowled, rolling his eyes as Duma smiled slightly, flipping her blade nimbly in his hand before giving it back to her. Náman placed his knives back in their holsters, nodding his head down the uneven path once more.

"Pelargir," Billie rushed to his side, looking wide-eyed at what he was gesturing to. It seemed to be a small town on the river with several large ships floating about in the harbor.

"Wow," she uttered, unable to think of anything else to say about the magnificent sight.

"_Come," _Duma said, clasping a hand on her shoulder and smiling widely at her as the motley crew began the arduous trek down the hillside to the port.

As Billie began to walk passed Náman she felt his hand on her upper arm. His hold was firm but not painful, as though he were telling her to wait. He gestured to his head and face and then to hers. Billie scowled, tugging her hood up and tucking her errant blond hair beneath it, positioning her veil properly to cover the lower portion of her face. He gave her a once over before nodding his approval and gesturing her to follow him again.

It took a few hours more to reach the village. Billie was looking forward to resting in an actual bed that night (fingers crossed). Her blisters had blisters, her back was sore, her cramps were beginning to return with a vengeance and she was sunburnt too. She picked her way carefully down the uneven loose gravel trail. Náman and Duma were very surefooted, walking with long fluid strides and Skunk strolled by her with several leaping bounds. She jutted her lower lip out unabashedly in a pout as her eyes narrowed in annoyance.

_Showoffs_.

A startled yelp elicited from the young woman as she lost her footing, rolling her ankle painfully for the second time since her reawakening. Just as she was about to totally eat it on the unforgiving ground she fell against Náman with a muffled thump.

"'Tank yew," she muttered into his chest, hoping he would attribute what little he could see of her flushed cheeks to her sunburn. Billie felt his chest vibrate with a quiet laugh as he set up upright.

"_Clumsy_," he chided her, eyes crinkling at the corners beneath his balaclava in a way that told her he was smiling at her misfortune/pain/stupidity. Rolling her own Billie began walking once more, hissing whenever she put weight on her foot. They were roughly a hundred yards from the town, surely she could make it-

Náman didn't seem to share her confidence about the situation, muttering under his breath as Billie caught the words 'fool', 'clumsy', and something she assumed meant 'accident prone'.

When he was done cursing her into oblivion Náman crouched, sliding an arm beneath her knees, the other at her back before hefting her into his arms with a quiet grunt, shifting her around in order to get a firm hold on her.

"Holy shit!" She squeaked, clinging to him for dear life at the sudden move. She heard him sigh in annoyance as she loosened her grasp around his neck.

"Sorry," Billie muttered, cheeks bright red in mortification she was grateful her veil concealed. She could count on one hand the number of times a man had carried her in such a manner and none of those times ended well.

"Billie?" She raised her eyes to meet Náman's questioning gaze.

"I…_I well_." He didn't look convinced but didn't press the subject and instead began walking. She heard Duma chuckling softly and tossed a glare the older man over Náman's shoulder before resting her head against said-shoulder tentatively.

Lulled into a peaceful silence Billie allowed herself to simply enjoy being carted around for a change. All was well until she heard Duma go 'aww' followed by some immature kissy noises.

"Asshole!" "_Mjinga!_" Náman and Billie stared at each other for a moment, having both spoken at the same time. The once-peaceful silence became awkward, only further enhanced by Duma's ribbing of his friend. Skunk took pity on his embarrassed mistress and gave a rather volatile snap at Duma's heel. The man simply laughed, evading the bite with ease and petting him on the head with a toothy grin.

\/

Upon reaching the port her escort set her down on a bench made of stone, leaving her in Duma's care and left with Skunk trotting obediently at his side. Billie wondered what he was going to do but her sore ankle kept her from following him.

"_Here," _she glanced over at her other travelling partner as he procured a small book from his pack, opening it and sidling close to her. Billie arched a brow, sliding as far down the bench as she could without falling off it. He laughed aloud, it was such a wonderful, rich throaty sound. She had never heard Náman laugh aside from his arrogant chuckles whenever she did something stupid and she found it rather endearing.

As their lesson commenced for that day Billie found her attention more drawn to the sights around her rather than Duma. She paid attention when she deemed it necessary but mostly kept people-watching. There were many citizens milling about the port town in various states of dress and coloring. It was one big melting pot it seemed as a woman strode by in a short white dress barely reaching her knees with colorful feathers woven into her dark hair. Billie arched a brow only to realize that Duma was staring blankly at her with the universal male look for 'damn she's fine' on his face.

"Oi, teach, put your eyes back in your head," she swatted him upside the back of his head to get his attention and keep his tongue from lolling out of his mouth. Duma grinned sheepishly at her before his smile faded somewhat; "What's wrong-?" She followed his line of sight, seeing a man in a mottled green and gray cloak observing them from beneath the awning of a building. A sword hung on his left hip, his arms were folded over his broad chest and his stormy gray eyes were fixated on Billie's warm hazel. It was unnerving to say the least as she glanced away from the mysterious man.

"Duma, Billie, _come_," Duma immediately stood, grasping her wrist before hefting her easily over his shoulder, grabbing her pack in his free hand. An undignified squeak of surprise and embarrassment escaped her as he followed Náman towards the harbor.

"Put me down you brute!" Billie spat in annoyance, squirming awkwardly in his grasp.

"_I will drop you," _he said warningly, loosening his grasp around her thighs just enough so she began to slip towards the ground. Quickly reevaluating her situation Billie stopped kicking about and let him cart her around like a caveman.

_At least he isn't dragging you by your hair, girl._

Upon reaching the harbor he set her down, giving Billie her bag back before steering her up the gangplank of a small ship. Her eyes went to a small pouch in Náman's hand as he gave it to a rather seedy-looking man. The man smiled at Billie, revealing that he was missing the top row of his teeth as she stuck close behind her escorts, reaching down to pet Skunk in reassurance only to jump in surprise when she felt a hand give her ass a firm squeeze.

"What the hell?!" She squealed, spinning around and nearly wrenching her ankle once more only to see that Náman had the man's wrist clasped firmly in his hand and a wickedly serrated knife at his throat. Billie sucked in a startled breath, nearly recoiling from the intimidating Haradrim.

"_She yours? Sorry friend,_" the man sputtered weakly as a bead of blood slid down the knife blade.

"St-stop_,_" she found herself saying, resting her shaky hand on his forearm in an attempt to get him to lower the knife.

"_He touched you,_" Náman's voice was completely level contrary to the anger burning in his amber eyes like fire.

"Náman-," Billie said weakly, giving a slight tug on his sleeve in an attempt to deter him from doing something drastic. The gravity of the situation had her feeling slightly nauseous and lightheaded (then again that could also have been because of the boat swaying unsteadily beneath her feet).

"_Come,_" Duma said in a commanding voice, ushering Billie below deck with the gray and black warg. She was brought to a small cabin and told by Duma to keep the door locked until he or Náman came for her. Billie reclined on the small cot as Skunk hopped up beside her. She shakily ran her fingers through his dirt and twig matted coat, feeling his chest vibrate with a soft purr. Not even bothering to disrobe Billie slumped against the wall, curling her knees to her chest as Skunk stretched out on the floor like some macabre watch dog.

A pitiful wail of pain reached her ears as she winced, clasping her hands over them and screwing her eyes shut. She didn't even want to know what was transpiring overhead, hearing something that sounded horribly similar to a body hitting the ground a few seconds later.

The blond tasted sour bile on the back of her tongue as she fumbled for the pouch of herbs in her pack, resting one beneath her tongue as calming mint flooded her taste buds. She gasped in alarm when she heard someone knock on the door;

"Billie?" She scrambled to answer it, seeing Náman at the threshold, wiping his knife clean with a cloth.

"Oh god, did you-?" She swallowed thickly, eyeing the blood on Náman's blade with wide fearful eyes; "_Did you kill him?" _Náman shook his head 'no', raising his knife and miming slicing his wrist. Realization hit Billie like a runaway train; in some cultures whenever someone stole another person's property they would have their hand cut off.

"_Hudud_. _He should not touch what is not his." _

His words looped continuously through Billie's head as a weak whimper lodged in her throat; "_Get some sleep. Reach Osgiliath night after next." _She couldn't keep from flinching when he rested a hand on her head before dropping his arm to his side. He didn't say anything else and instead left her to her own devices.

Billie slumped onto her cot once more, burying her face in her hands for a moment before tugging her hood back and veil down, wiping her teary eyes. Sniffling quietly she withdrew the small notebook Duma had given her from her pack along with a sharp featherless quill and tiny bottle of ink, flipping through it before landing on an entry he had scrawled earlier that afternoon during their lesson, the word '_Hasharin_' in chicken scratch. She had pestered him about the meaning for nearly an hour but he wouldn't tell her what it meant and Náman refused to tell her as well.

She followed up the Harad word with one of her own in English, blood running cold as she did so;

_Assassin._

* * *

Ta-da. I wasn't planning on making Náman so…I guess violent but hey, shit happens. If you may recall eons ago in chapter…three?...that Náman introduces himself as Haradrim, Hasharin? Yep, you get to see the darker side of our guide in this chapter as a result. Duma was supposed to be for comedic relief but I find he's starting to grow on me and I think he performs his role rather well in teaching Billie and also nagging her and Náman, kinda like a little brother. I also sense our love interest coming up very soon~! *excited squeal*. Sorry most of this chapter was Billie get owned/perved upon/being a crybaby but at least she's got someone willing to keep her safe, even if it is at a chilling cost…Hm, that sounded slightly more creepy than I intended it to be, I apologize.

Okay, translation time:

_Nini bahati! Mwambie huyu kalere kutolewa mimi hii papo: _What luck! Tell this short woman to release me this instant!

_Nini ajabu kampuni kushika rafiki yangu_.: What strange company you keep, my friend.

Mjinga: fool or idiot

Hudud: the practice of cutting off a thief's hand for committing a crime without homicide (Islamic term for it and if we're going with the Haradrim being based off Saudi Arabians I think it works).

And a huge epic shout-out to everyone who has reviewed so far. I can only hope I continue to live up to your expectations. Cheers~!


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